Eyes of God
by Unknown Crow
Summary: Things go wrong when Lucina tries to go back in time.
1. Arc One - Future Legend: Time Warp

Through the fog of sleep, she could faintly hear the sound of birds singing.

Lucina's eyes snapped open. She hadn't heard birds singing in years, only the shrill cries of vultures.

The sun shone through a thick canopy of trees. In the distance, she could hear the sounds of wildlife — chirping and croaking, and the faint sound of a river.

"Napping on the ground..." Lucina rose to her feet, getting her bearings. Looking all around, she took in the unfamiliar forest. "Where in..."

The memories trickled backward.

The portal. She'd been there, with the others. They'd been planning to go back in time, to prevent the grim future they'd lived through.

She nodded. This was the past, just like she'd hoped. But...

The Risen had appeared, and she'd had to go through before Naga was finished creating the portal. Something had gone wrong, and if she'd arrived too late, or in another land, or even a century early...

She had to get an idea of where she was, and, more importantly, _when_ she was.

* * *

The village of Southtown was the first settlement she came across.

Lucina walked around the center of town, dazed. Everything felt...alive. The clouds moved across the perfect blue sky, casting occasional shadows. The sun shone brightly on the people, who lived without concern of the world's death.

There was time, Lucina considered. She had all the time in the world, if her aunt was alive and well. She'd go to the capital, then, and find her father, and...

...and then what? Lucina's mind wandered. Would she tell him everything? No. She would have to bide her time, silently protecting him and Emmeryn, until Emmeryn's death was prevented and her father's murderer presented themselves before her.

The road north was worn and unpaved, and twisted through a forest before letting out before Ylisstol.

Lucina's mind spun in circles on the trip. She repeated what she'd say to her father, a young man leading a small band of loyal soldiers, making sure that the people lived without fear. The militia that would become an army.

"You may call me Marth," her rehearsals began, again and again. "The fate of you, your family, and your people is at stake. Heed this warning..."

* * *

If Southtown had seemed full with life, Ylisstol was thrice that and more. Lucina slowly worked her way through the market. She could feel her shoulders tensing with every person she walked by.

"Relax," she repeated softly. "Have to relax."

The palace was unchanged from the days of her youth, which, now that she thought about it, wouldn't be for years.

She made her way up the steps toward the palace — she noticed that quite a few other people were beginning to flock to the entrance to the palace as well. By the time she'd reached the top, a thick crowd had formed around the entrance. Lucina craned her neck in an attempt to get a better view of the proceedings.

The massive palace doors opened.

She could see Emmeryn, smiling and waving. She seemed to be already a woman — Lucina mentally smirked, she hadn't landed _too_ far from her destination.

And then she saw the teen by Emmeryn's side, his blue hair messy and unkempt.

An involuntary curse escaped her lips. She'd gone back too far, years too far. She ground her teeth together and cursed over and over in her mind.

* * *

The inn was tiny and out of the way, and the room was colder than she'd have liked, but at least it was a place to stay. And, what little bullion she'd brought thanked her, it was cheap.

She laid down on the bed. She kept working her plan in her mind, but nothing was, well, _working_.

Somehow, she doubted that any of her (now former) companions had been launched this far back. And it wasn't like she could just say that she'd come from the future to anyone — that was madness itself. Chrom hadn't even thought about forming the Shepherds yet, but she hadn't even planned to join them in the first place.

Still, the dilemma remained. Planning — long-term planning, at that — was far from her forte and she, well, _needed_ someone. Someone who was _good_ with planning, and plotting, and... _tactics_.

The solution smashed into her.

 _The Tactician_. Chrom's supposed most trusted confidant and ally. The genius who'd won wars. The White-Haired Devil, as he was named in Valm, for his victory at sea that allowed the Ylissean forces to land at Valm Harbor. The man who'd been the mastermind behind Chrom's astounding victories at every major battle before his assassination.

She needed the tactician. And somehow, she'd have to find him. She cursed silently, remembering the lack of records concerning the tactician's past. Hell, she wasn't even sure on what he looked like, or even if he was a "he" at all.

"Wonderful," Lucina muttered to the still air.

She hadn't been counting the time, but it felt like a reasonable length before she'd been able to track down the man.

Lucina eyed the island with some level of trepidation. A doubt rose up from her stomach and bubbled in her chest. Was the man going to be here?

Fourteen days and nights on the open sea. The crew of the ship hadn't been too welcoming, but they'd allowed the traveller to come aboard for the voyage for a small fee.

"That's the island," the captain said, just behind Lucina. "The men and women there are a hardy bunch, aye. You looking to settle here?"

Lucina stood in silence on the stern.

"If that's how it is," the captain muttered aside.

* * *

Lucina stood at the center of the village, her eyes looking up at the wooden structure used for town meetings and announcements.

The village was decidedly simple, the houses all lacking adornment. The houses were all built with simpler techniques, unlike Ylisstol or even Southtown. The singular general store was the tallest building in town.

On the fringe of society...was the tactician here?

She nodded quickly to herself and walked toward the store.

The door swung open with a great creaking and closed with a loud thump. The trader jumped up from his sleep in a chair, almost involuntarily. With a still half-asleep voice, he said, "What can I do you for?"

"I'm looking for someone with white hair," Lucina growled out. "Not old, though. Younger."

"Aye, that sounds like the, ah, farmhand," the trader said, almost fully awake now. He leaned over the counter and rested his forehead on his hand. "He works for Renard, over on his farm."

"Where is that?"

"Aye, ah, stranger, that'd be...uh..." The trader looked up and glanced about for a map for a moment before calling out, "Anne-Marie!"

"Yes, father?"

The trader nodded at the blond girl descending the steps. "Show this, ah, lad to Renard's farm."

The pair set out toward the rising sun.

On the edge of the forest was a simple house and a plot of farmland. Anne-Marie knocked thrice on the door of the house before an older man with a heavy limp threw the door wide open.

"Ah, Anne-Marie! Who's this with you?"

"You may call me Marth," Lucina half-mumbled, slightly unnerved at the man's jolly behaviour.

"Ah, after the Hero-King? Ah, that doesn't matter. Come in, come in! I was just about to make some tea."

The pair obliged and stood in the man's sitting room as he set a kettle on the wood-burning stove.

"Now, Anne-Marie, what brings you to old Renard on this fine day?"

"Well, actually —" Anne-Marie began.

"I'm looking for someone with white hair," Lucina interjected. "I was told there was a farmhand here?"

"Ah, you mean Robin," Renard said, enthused. "He's been a great help. This past year, my old wounds have been aching a great deal more. Robin's been tending to most of the actual work these days. The boy's a genius, aye."

"May I see him?"

"Aye, he should be out in the field this time of day," Renard said.

It just so happened that Robin opened the door and stepped inside at that exact moment.

"Renard," he greeted, clearly out of breath. "Anne-Marie. And...stranger."

"Marth," Lucina introduced herself.

"Marth. Right. False name?"

"That's not important," Lucina said. "I've been looking for you."

"Me?" Robin replied.

"Yes. Come with me," Lucina said, pulling Robin outside and shutting the door behind her.

Robin stared expectantly at the stranger as the pair stood on the house's porch.

"I need your help," Lucina said after a moment.

"With?"

"It's complicated." Lucina's hand caressed the hilt of the Falchion. "In a handful of years, the world will be devastated by the resurrection of Grima, the Fell Dragon. I need your help preventing that."

Robin raised a skeptical eyebrow. "And how do you know that the Fell Dragon's coming back?"

"Because I'm from the future."

"The future? That's absurd," Robin said. "You can't expect me to believe — "

"Wait," Lucina said. "You know what the Mark of the Exalt is, right?"

"It's the birthmark that the Ylissean kings and queens have," Robin said, rubbing the back of his bandaged left hand. "Emmeryn has it on her forehead, her brother has it on his shoulder."

"Look into my eyes."

Lucina slowly took off her mask.

"There's no way," Robin said, wide eyes focused on the Brand of the Exalt in Lucina's eye. "Either you're a bastard or — hmm. How far into the future do you come from?"

"Uh...twenty years," Lucina guessed. "I can't say for certain, a lot of record keepers perished when Ylisstol fell."

"Okay. So you're from twenty years ahead, where Grima has risen from his slumber," Robin said, cautiously. "And you need my help...how?"

"You play a key role in future events," Lucina said. "You're one of my father's most trusted lieutenants, and — "

"Wait, wait," Robin said. "Like...in the military?"

"Yes," the future girl replied. "You're a tactician. One of the finest the people of Ylisse have had in their service, at that."

Robin's eyes went slightly wide. "I've barely studied tactics."

"Never mind that. We still have to wrap things up for you here. Let's talk about this later," Lucina muttered, putting her mask back on.

* * *

"You're leaving?" Anne-Marie frowned at the newly-christened tactician's news.

"It's not forever," Robin said, packing the scant few books on basic tactics he owned into a bag. "Don't worry, I'll come back."

"But..."

"If you want to worry about someone, worry about your mother." Robin frowned with concern. "Take care of her, and I'll take care of myself."

Anne-Marie, still clearly concerned for the farmhand, silently rose up off the bed and left the small shack that was Robin's home.

"What the hell did I get myself into?" Robin muttered, his right hand crossing over and covering the back of his left. "Foolish fantasies about saving the world...but..."

He slowly undid the bandages. Slowly, he raised the back of his hand to the light. "Of course," he muttered, brow furrowing. "A link to the past. My lost memories."

* * *

At sunrise three days later, the cargo ship departed, hauling the crops and bullion the villagers had exchanged with the sailors, along with two travellers.

On the first night, underneath the deck of the ship, Lucina and Robin began to outline a plan.

"The key element in all this is Emmeryn," Lucina said. "In a few years, when I meant to go to, she is killed by a squad of assassins late at night. Her dream of peace is never realized."

"And Grima is born," Robin concluded. "So you want to guard her?"

"Of course," Lucina said, leaning forward.

Robin rested his head in the palm of his right hand. "That's not going to be easy."

"That's why I need your help," Lucina said.

"How long do we have?"

"A couple years. Three or four, if I had to guess," Lucina said.

"Probably less." Robin frowned and steepled his fingers. "Your very being here is altering time. The future as you know it is no longer set in stone. Even this talk, right now, is potentially changing the very fabric of the future."

"So..." Lucina began. "Then the future may already be different?"

"Indeed," Robin said. "Enough on that. We have a few years before Emmeryn's death. So how does this happen? What's the first part of your plan?"

"I don't know," Lucina said quietly. "I never planned to go back this far."

"Oh. That's great," Robin said, his head sinking into his hands. "That's wonderful. No problem."


	2. The Victorious Sword of Lingering Regret

Lucina felt a slight prick on the back of her neck.

Immediately, she drew the steel sword that had been her faithful companion. Her companions, many former Ylissean guard who had survived the fall of their capital, noticed her action, and they began to draw their weapons, too.

One was mid-draw when he collapsed, an arrow sticking out of his neck.

"Archers!" one of the soldiers shouted.

The Risen emerged from the trees and bushes. Lucina could already tell that they were surrounded. The searing pain on her neck told her as much.

One was barely inside striking range, his lance raised to strike.

Lucina thrusted forward, bringing the sword through the Risen. Immediately, she moved to the next, another sword wielder. The undead managed to block a single blow, but one of Lucina's allies managed to pierce his side before he could make an offense.

Lucina turned around, an axe wielder looking menacingly over her. His swing was wide and Lucina managed to block it with her sword, but the next one was harder to block, and Lucina stepped backward. The third swing came in fast and hard, and Lucina blocked it.

But her sword cracked, and the axe pushed through, and the steel shattered in her hands.

* * *

Lucina's eyes opened instantly.

"Another nightmare," she muttered, under her breath. She rose and walked up the steps to the deck.

One of the crewmen nodded at her as he saw her emerge from beneath the deck. She stepped over to the railing and looked out at the moon.

The ship was nearing Ylisse. It'd been a week and a half of calm waters and fine winds, or so the crew had said. She'd spend most of it detailing to Robin the events of the future or discussing how to prevent that future.

"It's too calm," the captain said from behind her.

"What do you make of it?" Lucina asked.

"Trouble," the captain replied. "Whenever there's calm, a storm is sure to follow. The winds are changing, Mister Lowell."

"Indeed," Lucina said. "Tell me, do you believe in fate?"

"I can't say that I do," the captain said, rubbing his dark beard. "You?"

"Not at all," the masked warrior replied. "Never have."

It was not long after that Lucina found herself, once again, on a wagon heading toward Ylisstol.

"So," Robin said, leaning back on a crate of furs. "You never did tell me what your real name is."

"Lucina. My name is Lucina."

"No need to be so on edge," Robin said. "We're partners. I've got your back." He raised a fist. "We're gonna prevent Grima's resurrection."

"Right," Lucina said, a sigh lingering on her mouth. "What land do you call your home?"

"Until two weeks ago, the island," Robin said. "Before that, I don't know. You?"

"I lost my home," Lucina said. "When I was still a child. The soldiers of Grima's army — Risen, they'll call them — they sieged Ylisstol. For a year, there was almost no food. The people starved."

"That sounds...horrible," Robin said, folding his arms.

"When we were at the brink of starvation, they began their assault in earnest. Risen...they don't feel pain. Until their red eyes are extinguished, they fight." Lucina shuddered. "I and a handful of others managed to escape the massacre. I watched the city as it burned, unable to do a thing."

"Oi," the wagon's driver said. "We're coming up on Ylisstol. My boss would get angry if he found out I was giving rides, so you'd better get ready to hop off."

* * *

Near the heart of Ylisstol was the Temple of Naga, a grand edifice dedicated to the Divine Dragon. Thousands made the pilgrimage to visit the temple.

Lucina and Robin found themselves within a procession of people moving into the temple.

"The library here is massive," Robin muttered to his partner. "All sorts of texts are kept here, under the watch of the high priests."

"Even those detailing Grima, Naga's sworn enemy," Lucina replied in an equally hushed tone.

The library, indeed, was massive. But while Lucina was standing, uncertain of where to begin, Robin had already begun to stack books on one of the tables.

Within a short time, he had finished.

"This is all related to dragons," he said, motioning to the stack. "Earth Dragons, mostly. You can read, correct?"

"I was taught," Lucina said.

"Let's get crackin'," Robin said, taking a seat at the table and prying open one of the thicker volumes, labelled _The Holy War and its Heroes — A Record Of Jugdral, years 757-778_.

Lucina eyed the pile carefully before sitting down and taking off her mask. Pulling the second book off the pile, she glanced at its title —

" _The Creation of Ylisse,"_ she read aloud, before flipping open the book.

* * *

Several days and a multitude of trips in and out of the library later, Robin and Lucina were victorious.

"What we know," Robin began, reading off the small journal he had been taking notes in. "Grima's resurrection requires certain items. First, a vessel. Not sure if the vessel means a body or an object. Second, it requires a sacrifice of human lives. Pretty obvious what that means. Third, it requires an artifact that has been blessed by a dragon."

Lucina nodded. "We make the vessel our top priority, then?"

"Well," Robin said, his left hand over his right. "Finding the vessel will take more investigation. Until we can find out what the 'vessel of Grima' exactly refers to, we'll be stumbling in the dark."

"Then the artefacts," Lucina said, resting her head in the left hand.

"Unlike Naga, Grima doesn't seem to bless things very often. And, to be honest, I only have an inkling of where most the legendary artefacts are." Robin exhaled and leaned back. "The only one whose ownership was tracked for any amount of time was the Cursed Spear of Grima, and the last time that was seen was almost a century ago, on a boat sailing to the west..."

"West?" Lucina repeated.

"West. No word ever came back from the expedition, so it's a bit of a mystery in the historical records."

"Valm is to the west," Lucina said. "In nearly seven years, Valm attempts to invade the Ylissean continent—"

"Wait." Robin stopped Lucina. "Valm?"

"...You don't know about Valm?"

* * *

The fountain at the center of Ylisstol depicted the Divine Dragon and the founder of Ylisse performing the Awakening Rite.

Lucina and Robin sat on the stone edge of the fountain, discussing their findings.

"The spear is also called the Gáe Bolg," Robin said, his eyes scanning over his journal. "It's said that it enters your body like a javelin, and then barbs erupt from it."

"So we go to Valm in search of the Gáe Bolg," Lucina said.

"And hopefully while we search for it, we'll find something out about the vessel of Grima." Robin leaned back. "How do you wanna get to Valm, though?"

"We'll need money." Lucina frowned, recalling one of the phases of her original plan, and glanced over at Robin's rather shoddy clothing. "You're gonna want a thicker coat."

* * *

Centuries ago, the founders of what would become Regna Ferox had proclaimed that their new nation would never fall to another. To accomplish this, they built the first Longfort. Over the years, the wall had been rebuilt and improved a multitude of times, currently sporting stone walls and iron gates.

And now the pair stood before the edifice. While Lucina stood unfazed, Robin wrapped his new black coat closer to his body as the pair walked toward the gates. "So why are we here in the freezing north, again?"

"Money," Lucina said. "There should be an upcoming tournament."

"Tournament...?" Robin paused in his walking. "But...you can't mean...?"

Lucina turned back to face her partner. "The legendary Feroxi tournament where the Khans decide who holds power in the kingdom, held every few years? That's exactly where we're headed." She marched on toward the Longfort, Robin trailing just behind.

As they approached the gate, a guard clad in a thick cloak stepped forward to greet the pair. "Civilian or soldier?"

"Civilian," Lucina said. "How goes it?"

"Bandits have been quiet for the last few months. Probably trying to recoup their strength down south. Roads are safe again, but the boys are getting restless," the guard said. "Heading to watch the tournament?"

Lucina gave the guard a smile and a nod. "Yes."

"Enjoy yourselves," the guard said, ushering them through the gate.

* * *

If Ylisstol was a shining diamond, the capitol of Western Ferox was an uncut one. It did not have the sheen or grandeur that Ylisstol's architecture evoked. There was no grand temples or beautiful palaces on that scale. That is not, however, to say that the city was ugly. The Feroxi people were more pragmatic, and so their style was more focused on simple structures that would stand the test of time.

Robin had elected to stay behind at the inn, at Lucina's request.

The guards had been reluctant to fetch the Khan. But when Lucina had said that she was a wandering swordsman, they'd been all too happy to fetch the man.

"What business do you have with me?"

The West-Khan was massive. In a society of warriors, it was only natural that its leader be a warrior, too, and this man was the epitome of Feroxi strength. His regal garb was heavy and able to block stray arrows, and he wore an eyepatch with great pride, saying to the world that he could beat you with or without his eye.

The man, Lucina had been told, was named Basilio.

"I am a wandering swordsman. I want to fight the strong," Lucina said. "So I came here."

"Ha. I have no idea who you are, but I'm curious. Guard! Fetch the captain. I want to see this swordsman in action."

Five minutes later, the captain of the guard stood before Lucina. This man, too, was impressively built. From the way it was built and the scars marking it, Lucina could tell that his axe was a feat to construct and it had seen many, many battles. It was blunt, and heavy — made to crush through armor, destroy foes in a single blow.

The captain saw her eyeing the massive steel blade and smiled. "I call her Sheila," he said. "There are none like her."

"Sir," one of the guards called out. "You'll be at a disadvantage if you use an axe! That man's sword—"

"I know," the man said, hoisting the axe off the ground. He looked up at his opponent. "Ready?"

"Ready," Lucina said, drawing the Falchion.

The man lifted the axe even further and walked forward.

Lucina stepped in and out of the man's charging range, hoping to spur a reaction.

The man let loose a battle cry and charged at full speed, holding his weapon in the air and slicing down. Lucina's reflexes screamed and she moved to the side.

The axe came out of the ground instantly and the man swung it at the swordswoman, but she had moved back out of range of the axe already.

"Now me," Lucina muttered, moving in during the follow-through of the axe's slice.

With just one thrust, she had Falchion's tip against the man's chest.

"Impressive," Basilio said, halting the duel. "You certainly don't drag duels out, swordsman. Hell, our Swordmasters could learn a thing or two from you." He walked up to the masked woman and smiled. "How would you like to represent West Ferox in the upcoming tournament?"

* * *

The Arena Ferox was a grand coliseum. Thousands could sit and watch spectacles such as animal hunts, reenactments of famous battles in history, and even an occasional drama based on mythology passed down from the ancestors of the Feroxi. But every Feroxi knew its true purpose.

The time had come, once again, for the Khans to battle. Their proxies selected, they convened at the center of Ferox to decide who would rule supreme in Regna Ferox.

The East had brought their chosen warrior. Caecilius, the reigning champion, had come in a grand chariot, three days after Lucina had arrived.

"That man's sword and dress are far too elaborate," Lucina said, eyeing the man as he prepared for the duel that would end the tournament. "He's more concerned with putting on a show than winning."

"That's the point," Robin said, glancing up from one of the books on tactics he'd purchased in West Ferox. "They don't come here to watch a guy get stomped, they do it for entertainment. He wears that huge red coat because it looks flashy, not because it provides protection."

"Hmm. It's almost time for the main event." Lucina donned the mask.

* * *

The crowd rose to an almost deafening level as the pair walked into the arena. "Let's give them something to cheer about," Caecilius yelled to his opponent. "May the best man win!"

Lucina nodded and gave a duelist's salute with the Falchion.

Immediately, the man dubbed "Lightning Blade" showed exactly why he was given the name, moving at a blinding speed toward his opponent. Lucina braced for impact. Her stance shifted, ready to parry.

The blade had come from the left, and she blocked it. Another strike, this time from the left. Lucina parried and countered, but the man slipped out of reach.

"Damn. He's put Marth on defense." Basilio frowned from the box seat. "The man's faster than any man ought to be. Danced circles around my champion last year before finishing it."

Robin looked over at the man with the eyepatch. "How do you think this is going to play out?"

"Hopefully Marth can catch the slippery bastard," Basilio said, with a small chuckle.

Down in the arena, neither was truly winning. Every strike that Caecilius threw out was blocked or deflected away, but Lucina was unable to get in a single attack.

Thrust, parry, slash, evade. The pair had yet to draw first blood.

Lucina already saw the offense's weak point. When Caecilius thrusted, he overextended his body. Of course, at that range, a sword slash would be nigh impossible.

The man stabbed, a thrust intended to be the first and last blow. Lucina sidestepped, her eyes focused. Her left hand was off the sword, and she brought it forward, seizing red fabric in her fist. She drew the man closer.

For a brief moment, she held the man with a triumphant smile on her face.

Then the man went sailing through the air. He'd barely been on the ground a moment before Lucina was high above, her blade coming down for a near fatal blow.

Caecilius rolled to the left and got up, almost dodging another blow. A thin red line flowed down his cheek.

"I-impossible," he said.

Basilio smiled as the western champion began her own offensive.

The speed rivaled that of the "Lightning Blade"'s previous attacks, except that instead of a long, thin rapier, the thicker Falchion was delivering blow after blow.

"I-impossible!" Caecilius moved backward and drew his sword back, slicing forward with all his strength. Lucina's blade moved to meet its opponent.

The sound of steel breaking shattered the silence.

Caecilius's sword had been cleaved in two.

* * *

"Your payment, as promised," Basilio said, handing a sack filled with gold coins to the swordswoman. "And if you need anything from Ferox, you know where to find me."

"Actually," the newly crowned champion said. "There is something that I need."

Basilio raised his eyebrow. "Oh?"

"It's a bit of a long story," Lucina began.


	3. The Cursed Spear of Certain Demise

"Valm," Lucina said, looking at the distant harbor.

She remembered her time in Valm. It felt like so long had passed since her arrival in the pristine harbor. And she remembered the allies she'd gained here, too, and the resolve they'd filled her with.

But most of all, she remembered the Voice of Naga, who had given her the dual gift of advice and one of the Fire Emblem's gemstones.

Would she visit the dragon again, and thank her? She felt an obligation, at the minimum.

"Valm," Robin repeated, snapping Lucina out of her reminiscence. "So, this is where the Cursed Spear of Grima went."

"And maybe something on the Vessel," Lucina said, looking back at the whaling vessel that had been their home for the voyage. The crew members were working, but every so often, Lucina saw them take a glance at the unfamiliar country.

Lucina wondered what to do herself.

* * *

Valm Harbor was a massive seaside town. Houses and shops crowded together.

Lucina began to make a beeline for the nearest tavern, but Robin grabbed her and lead her into the market plaza. And at midday, the marketplace was crowded.

Half an hour later, they had found absolutely nothing.

"Screw it," Robin said, a scowl on his face. "Why did we even do this? There's no way it's just out in the open, waiting to be sold."

"I thought that was apparent," Lucina replied. "I don't just go to inns for drink, you know."

"Well, you win," Robin said, folding his arms. "What's the next step of your master plan?"

Lucina shrugged.

At that moment, a man clad in all black rushed a nearby market stand, a blade appearing from beneath his cloak and a battle cry slipping from his mouth.

Almost immediately, Lucina's blade came out of the sheath, tracing a line up the man's back in a mortal draw. The stand's owner cowered in fear as the corpse hit the floor.

"Another assassin," a guard commented, running up to the body. "Been having to keep an eye on everyone these days. Nicely handled, mister...?"

"Marth," Lucina said. "What was he trying to do?"

"Probably not an urchin, or he'd have tried to steal something all sneaky like," the guard replied, turning the body over onto its front. "He's probably one of the followers of those self-proclaimed 'emperors'."

"Emperors?" Robin asked.

"Yeah, two rulers who've been squabbling over the lands nearby the last few years," the guard said. "Don't get out much? Anyway, one of them has a big ol' axe and the other wields a barbed spear. They've been going around and taking men's land, all to expand their 'empire'. Damn warlords is what they are."

"A barbed spear," Lucina said, shooting a glance to Robin. "Who are these warlords?"

"The one with the spear you're so curious about, that's, ah, Sadon the Destroyer. Hails from the southern regions, if memory serves me." The guard moved to scratch his head. "The other one, with the axe...? I'm not sure. Big red guy, kinda...menacing, if what my cousin says is right."

"Walhart?" Lucina asked, her eyes narrowing behind her mask. "Walhart the Conqueror?"

"That's the name," the guard said. "Ah...forgive me for asking, but are you looking for them for some reason?"

Lucina grimaced. "Not sure. Have a good day."

"You too," the guard said, kneeling down by the body.

"The barbed spear," Robin said, pulling Lucina away into a back alley. "That's gotta be Gáe Bolg! All the legends say the same thing, it enters your body as one wound, and then barbs erupt from it and go through your entire body!"

"Then that's our lead," Lucina said, pulling her hand free of Robin's grasp and slowing down a little. "Problem is, he's got an army."

"But he's up against some other guy, that Walhart guy!" Robin hurried forward, his hands waving in the air. "It's perfect! Step one, help Walhart. Step two, destroy the spear. Step three, head home and start proper investigations on the Vessel. Hell, this could be—"

Lucina stopped him, her hand on his shoulder. "After he conquers Valm, Walhart will set his sights on the east — Ylisse."

"What do you want to do?" Robin said, his brow lowering. "We need to prevent Grima's awakening. We need to destroy that spear!"

"I don't know!" Lucina said, frustration mounting in her voice.

* * *

The hillside was open, and they could see the vast fields surrounding the Mila Tree.

Lucina inhaled sharply, her hand on the Falchion.

"We're here to observe," Robin said, peering through the cheap telescope. "Calm down."

"You're sure they're coming?"

The sitting tactician frowned. "Yeah. Pretty sure."

Lucina sat down next to him. "So what's the plan?"

"We figure out a way to get them to...I don't know, self destruct? We pit them against each other until there's only one, and then we destroy the survivor." Robin glanced through the telescope again. "They're coming. From the north."

Lucina strained her ears. She could hear the sound of cavaliers, bow knights, paladins.

"Ah," Robin said. "You said the big red guy was Walhart? Because I see a big red guy."

"Quick," Lucina said. "Sadon's coming from the south."

"I see him," Robin said, pulling his journal from his longcoat. Robin flipped through his notes to where he'd made a sketch of the Gáe Bolg. "That's the Cursed Spear."

The armies stopped, seeing their rivals. Walhart rode out in front, his axe raised. "That axe," Robin said, looking at the man. "That axe is massive. It could rip a man in half." He glanced over at Lucina.

Lucina's eyes were wide, a thin line of sweat running down her brow. "That spear," she muttered. "It's Grima's. I'm sure of it."

* * *

"What's the matter?" Robin said.

They'd set up a small camp at the base of the Mila Tree.

Lucina shrugged, the bread in her hand uneaten. "Some old memories."

"Wanna talk about it?" Robin ripped off a hunk of his loaf and ate it. "You seem kinda worked up."

"It's not important," Lucina said. "It's just that...that spear..."

"The Gáe Bolg?" Robin folded his arms. "You seemed to kinda...freak out when you saw it."

Lucina shook her head. "It's no matter." She tore off a chunk of the bread with her teeth and began chewing it. "What's the next step of the plan?"

"We'll have to kill Sadon," Robin said. "But that leaves Walhart open to conquer Valm." His fingers drummed the table. "If you have any ideas..."

"Keeping the events on their current course will mean that Walhart _will_ win," Lucina said. "But that leads to too much death. That is not an option I will allow."

"But at the same time," Robin rested his head in his left hand, "we're not going to be able to beat both of them."

* * *

Even in the day, the Mila Tree's base was dark. The thick leaves above prevented most light from touching the bottom.

Halfway up the staircase, the pair were watching. Sadon's soldiers had already arrived and begun setting up a defensive position.

"We're watching another battle," Lucina commented offhandedly. "Why?"

"Gauging their tactical prowess," Robin said. "That battle on the plains was simple — charge until someone retreats or dies. But we'll need to know if one has any really clever tacticians—"

"Such as yourself?"

"Ha. Very funny," Robin said. "Anyway, looks like they're just setting up a textbook defense. Unimaginative, but it works."

"What would you do?" Lucina asked, watching the soldiers.

"Traps," Robin replied. "The battlefield is dark, it's hard to see what lies around you. Make the footing unsure, make the branches deathtraps. Make the enemy fear advancing, and you stop his advance."

"We used to use a lot of similar tactics against the Risen," Lucina said. "Traps, snares, pits..."

"Huh." Robin extended the telescope and peered into it. "Those work out?"

"Sometimes," Lucina said. "Around our encampments, fields full of traps caught more than a few wandering Risen."

"I see Walhart's forces," Robin said, his scope pointing to the beginning of the massive root system. "But..." Robin pulled out his notebook. "They had many more soldiers during the last battle. It's not like either side took heavy casualties..."

But as he said this, Lucina saw exactly where the rest of Walhart's forces had gone.

The main column marched up the roots, advancing toward the defenders. But as the defenders raised their shields and lances, Walhart's soldiers emerged from between the roots they stood on.

"Now that's what I call lateral thinking," Robin said. Through his telescope, he watched as a soldier from underneath the roots sliced off a defender's foot, sending the man tumbling into the darkness.

* * *

"So Walhart's probably got a tactician," Robin said. "A sneaky, maybe a little underhanded one, but a tactician all the same." He paused. "So why are we going up here again?"

Lucina turned around. "The Voice of Naga lives up here."

"Oh," Robin muttered.

After some time, they reached the top of the Mila Tree.

The top of the tree was open, like a courtyard surrounded by the branches and leaves. An intricately carved floor circled around a series of stone monoliths.

And resting against one of those was the Voice of Naga, her body wrapped in a thick, hooded cloak.

"Is she...sleeping?" Robin asked, his voice quiet.

"Yes. Hold on." Lucina walked up and gently shook the manakete awake.

"Huh...Mar-Mar? What's with...the mask?"

"Ah, uh..." Lucina quickly removed her mask.

"Wait," the dragon said, yawning. "No, you're not him."

"You mean...Marth?" Robin said.

"Yes," Tiki said, rubbing her eyes. "A man I knew well. But he's gone now, and only I remain..." She removed her hood and turned to Lucina. "You're of the Exalted bloodline, are you not?"

"I am," Lucina said. "Although it's something of a long story."

Tiki looked Lucina over. "You don't have the Fire Emblem. Was it lost, or perhaps stolen by a foe?"

"Nothing of the sort," Lucina said. "It's safe in Ylisse. Don't worry."

"Ah," Tiki said. "So. Why are you here?"

"To seek advice," Lucina said. "I come from a future, filled with despair. I am here to prevent the calamity that Grima causes."

"We need to know what the Vessel of Grima is," Robin said bluntly.

"Ah. Grima," Tiki said with a shrug. "I'm...not sure."

Lucina and Robin were silent for a moment. "So," Robin concluded, "you know as much as we do."

"It would seem so," Tiki said with a yawn. "You...what is your name?"

"Lucina."

"Yes, Lucina. How did you escape from your future of despair?"

"It's, uh, a long story," Lucina said.

* * *

"That was useless," Robin said.

"No, it wasn't."

The sun was setting over the plains, and the two had set up camp a fair distance from the massive tree.

"Well," Robin said, "we don't know anything more than what we knew."

"That doesn't matter." Lucina turned to look at Robin. "Tiki is an important part of things to come."

"The way you made it sound, it seemed like literally everything revolved around Emmeryn." Robin sighed. "Is Tiki in any danger?"

"Not if my father forms the Shepherds." Lucina stared at the setting sun.

"About that," Robin said. "So how is it going to work out? You said that I was found in a field, without memories..."

"Hopefully whatever causes your amnesia can be prevented," Lucina said.

"And if it can't?"

"Then you get found in a field by my father, and everything is as it was."

* * *

The ranch's stables were clean, or at least the cleanest stables Robin could remember seeing. Not that he'd been in many stables, per se, but...they were clean. The pair of livestock he and Lucina had just bought were standing there in the center, ready to be taken.

Robin patted the horse's neck. "So. Horses."

"Yes. During the...dark times," Lucina said, using the code phrase Robin had coined for the future, "the Risen's forces vastly outnumbered our own, and we had to use unconventional tactics to cripple their forces. Mounts, such as horses or the rare pegasus proved key in our battles. This is no different, save that our enemy is human."

"A smaller horse-bound force _would_ be faster than infantry," Robin mused. "So. First we cripple Sadon's forces, then move to Walhart's."

"Indeed," Lucina said, mounting her horse easily. "Ready?"

"Not quite," Robin said, struggling to get onto his horse.


	4. Closing In On The Lancer

The shop was filled with goods and trinkets of all sorts. Imports from all corners of the known lands were stacked precariously on wooden shelves.

The owner, who rested behind a counter crowded with goods and treats, was an aging man, with a long, grey beard. He wore simple clothes, and his most lavish adornment was a golden pendant he'd received from the previous King of Plegia.

The high priest of the fell dragon opened the door, sand billowing in behind him.

"Sage," he said, dusting sand off of his robes. "I require your services."

"Tell me, Validar," the aging man said. "It was only a year ago that you asked me to ensure that your destiny had not changed. And today, you enter my shop once again to ask the same question you have asked every year. For twenty years have you asked me this, and for twenty years I have told you that you will awaken the Fell Dragon."

"Humor me," Validar said coldly. "You must have felt it, too. The winds of fate changing."

"Indeed, I did. That incense," the shop's owner muttered, pointing to an item on one of the shelves. "Bring it to me."

Validar handed the man the incense, and the fortune teller began to prepare the ritual. Validar slid a dagger out of his robes and held it above the small circle the man had created on his table.

"Blood," the older man muttered, and with that, Validar slit his hand open and let blood drip onto the wood.

The incense began to thicken. As many times as he had gone through the ritual, Validar still suppressed a cough. The old man was completely silenced, in a trance.

"Validar," he said, voice lacking the tinge of weakness that it had held. "The wheel of fate is turning. The future has become hazy." The man struggled to hold onto the trance, but he fell backward into his chair. "What was certain is now impossible to see," the man said. "Once I could see the future clearly — now it is but a raging sandstorm. Go, young one. I am very tired."

Validar's brow lowered, his eyes almost glowing with anger.

* * *

"Ready." Robin peered into the scope. "That convoy is _very_ lightly guarded."

"They're in their own lands," Lucina said. "They won't be expecting much more than token resistance. Even brigands are scared of them now."

"Still, these supply lines are vital to his armies. You'd think Sadon would put more into keeping them safe." Robin adjusted the focus on the scope. "I get that he's going up against a man of his own caliber, but he can spare a few men."

"Once he gets word that his supply lines are being raided, he'll ramp up security," Lucina said.

"Which is when we make the switch to attacking his forces directly, while they're hungry and tired. Torch's lit, by the way."

"Good." Lucina nocked an arrow and sent it flying into one of the rear wagons.

* * *

"It's been two weeks of raiding caravans," Robin said. "You think he knows now?"

Lucina raised one of the day's spoils to the firelight — an exotic fruit, imported from the southern isles. "Most likely. Here." She tossed the fruit to Robin and plucked another from her bag, using a small knife to cut it open. "I had one of these several years back. It's called...mango, if I remember correctly." She bit into the meat of the fruit.

"Mango," Robin repeated, watching Lucina's technique and emulating it as best he could. He bit into the mango. "It's delicious."

"Right now both Sadon and Walhart are amassing their forces," Lucina said. "They're positioning for a battle for the center of the continent."

"Once the battle ends, we strike," Robin said, wiping his face clean. "They'll be hungry, hopefully demoralized, and tired. We'll hit them at night, too. While they're resting."

"I have a few ideas," Lucina said. "You have any experience with magic?"

* * *

"Reports are in, sir," the courier said, handing over a pile of parchments.

"Excellent," Walhart said, reading over the latest news from his spies. Sadon was still amassing his forces. Walhart grimaced. The steppes of Central Valm were far more open than the forests surrounding his home. It would be a war of attrition, at best.

He turned his attention to the rest of the reports. The Duke of Rosanne was still refusing to allow his soldiers to use their castle as a staging base. He would have to settle that matter himself. Everything was quiet up north, in the capital. His advisors, as usual, urged him to rethink war and attempt to come to some sort of settlement with his enemy.

The last report puzzled him at first.

It was the usual reports of brigand activity over the continent, as his spies could best estimate. Usually he would see an occasional village razed to the ground, but in recent months the bandits had either perished or signed their loyalty to one of the warlords.

But here was a long list of missing caravans, completely opposite the downward spiral that banditry had been taking.

He looked over the caravans' cargo and likely destination. No, he thought. These were no mere bandits.

He clenched his fist in triumph. Sadon would have to take the bait of pursuing them, even if it meant drawing soldiers away from the front lines. Supply lines were the lifeblood of any army. It was too perfectly timed. Just as Sadon required all of his soldiers to push Walhart north and out of the steppes, he would have to pull a force away to chase bandits down.

Walhart smiled with the grim satisfaction of a man who has won without his opponent's knowledge.

* * *

The morning sun had barely risen above the horizon, but Lucina was already waking Robin from his slumber.

"Get on your horse," she whispered. "We're going to have to get out of these woods. Someone's hunting us."

"Sadon?"

"Very likely," Lucina said, handing the tactician his coat.

In moments, the two bedrolls had been taken down. Robin and Lucina were already moving.

"Didn't expect him to send anyone this early," Robin said, his horse galloping alongside Lucina's.

"He's paranoid," Lucina said, her voice barely audible over the beating of hooves.

"Do you actually know this, or is it a guess?" Robin asked.

"It's a guess," Lucina yelled back. "Once we hit the steppes, we'll be going toward town. Full sprint, no stops."

"How many arrows do you have?"

"Not many," Lucina said, grabbing the bow and quiver off of her horse's pack.

"They're getting closer," Robin said, glancing behind him.

"Go on ahead," Lucina said, nocking an arrow. Robin pushed his horse faster.

She turned around and she could see her pursuers. She counted them quickly. Five men wearing iron armor. She'd be better off going for the horses.

Only four arrows, including the one in her bow. Taking aim, she fired for one of the horses.

Clean miss. She ground her teeth together and nocked another arrow. The second arrow hit, the horse falling and sending its rider tumbling off.

"Two more," she muttered to herself, nocking the second to last arrow. She fired it off, sending another rider to the ground, and her final arrow took a third.

Two riders were hot on her tail. The forest was thinning now, and the steppes were just ahead.

Her eyes narrowed behind her mask and she drew Falchion, riding alongside the front rider.

The cavalier wielded a lance — steel, from the looks of it. Lucina deflected his first stab, countering with a stab of her own.

The man clutched his right shoulder and stabbed again. This time Lucina spun the lance in a circle and jabbed at the man's chest, sending him tumbling off the horse.

One more bearing down on her. This one was different; he was clad in shining armor. He raised his massive sword and spurred his horse faster.

Lucina narrowly blocked his first blow. The man yelled and swung again, Lucina barely pushing her horse out of range. The rider closed in again, drawing his sword back for a killing blow.

Lucina sliced Falchion upward, cleaving through the man and his mount. The man tumbled backward, his horse collapsing moments later.

Lucina slowed her horse and took a deep breath, sheathing her sword.

* * *

In the dead of night, the camp was quiet. A scant few torches illuminated rows of tents. This was the temporary home of Sadon's forces.

"Okay," Robin said. "Let's go over this one more time."

"There's only a few guards on patrol this late at night," Lucina said, handing a thick tome to Robin. "This is a Fire spell. You know how to use it?"

"Hopefully, yeah. I'll be expecting you at the rendezvous," Robin took the tome. "Good luck."

"Good luck." Lucina turned to look at the guard sleepily watching over the armory tent. With a nearby pebble, she turned his attention to the left as she snuck right.

* * *

Sadon rushed out of his tent.

He'd been poring over maps and charts, puzzling over his next move and berating himself over the day's loss. But now he stood at the entrance to his tent, overlooking his army's camp.

The camp that was ablaze.

A third of the tents were on fire. From here, he could see the men panicking and running about. He quickly rushed back inside his tent and retrieved his spear and a peculiar package wrapped in brown cloth.

These two items were the culmination of years of work and searching. He would not let either of them be destroyed by a mere fire.

With these in hand, he climbed up onto his horse.

* * *

"Nice," Robin said, glancing between Lucina and the burning camp in the distance.

"They won't be able to regroup easily," Lucina said. "Let's move. There's a town to the north. Let's resupply." She turned her horse around and rode away from the blaze, Robin following.

In the darkness, a pair of spies followed.

* * *

The town was small, but the duo quickly restocked. Lucina sold her bow and quiver and purchased a Thunder tome for Robin, along with some provisions for the journey ahead.

The ride north toward where Walhart had made camp for the winter was cold, and Lucina regretted not purchasing a thick cloak of some sort. But she bore through it, and soon enough, they'd reached Valm, Walhart's home.

"Welcome to the enemy base," Robin said, sarcasm coloring his voice. "Let's get their plans and head to more temperate lands, eh?"

Lucina shivered. "Yeah. I wish I had my old cloak."

"Where is it?"

"Tattered after too many battles," Lucina replied. "There's the inn."

The inn was empty. The owner, an aging man with a thick beard, welcomed them with a smile and a pair of mugs filled with a hot brown drink.

"What is this stuff?" Robin asked, taking a careful sip.

"Chocolate," the gruff man said. "Used to serve it cold, but a smuggler suggested I try it warm when he delivered a shipment a while back."

Robin took another sip. "Smuggler?"

"Yeah," the man said. "Smugglers come all the way up here. They know we pay good money for whatever they're running. With the war and all, tariffs on most everything is high, but smugglers do the dirty work of running things 'cross the borders and selling 'em for cheap."

"Aren't you afraid someone's gonna find out?"

"Nah," the man said, pouring a cup of chocolate for himself. "They turn a blind eye for the most part. So long as no one goes too far, everyone's fine."

"We need a room," Lucina said, laying a few coins on the bar. "For a few days, most likely."

The innkeeper laid a key on the table and took the coins. "Room seven," he said.

Lucina plucked the key off of the counter. "Thank you."

* * *

The sun had set, but a long night was ahead for Lucina and Robin. They'd pulled out the maps, Robin's notebook lay open on the table, and Lucina had pulled up a pair of chairs.

Such was their tradition of strategy discussions.

But it was as they were beginning to discuss the problems of undermining Walhart's army that a pair of very sharp knocks sounded on the door. As Robin carefully opened it, Lucina stood out of view with her hand on Falchion, ready to strike.

"Good evening," the cloaked man said. "Me and my partner come bearing a message and an offer from our master, one that may prove mutually advantageous."

"Welcome," Robin said, moving to allow the pair to step inside the room. "Tell me, who do you represent?"

"Message first," the second man said.

"Right. Our master would like to congratulate you on a series of successful raids on Sadon's caravans and your destruction of his camp," the first man said.

"And the offer?"

"Our master would like to present it himself," the man replied. "If you would accompany us to him..."

Lucina shot Robin a meaningful look.

He nodded. "Let us go and meet your master, then."

* * *

In the dark and the snow, the four travelled on foot through the village and over the road.

"Not much longer now," the cloaked man said.

"We're going to Valm Castle," Robin whispered to Lucina.

"Walhart," she replied.

Indeed, soon they were before the castle, standing dark and imposing in the faint light.

"I suppose all that secrecy seems rather moot," the cloaked man said. "Come. My master awaits."

* * *

Walhart was far more imposing up close than from a hundred meters, Robin thought.

The man was not wearing his armor. He wore ceremonial robes, but his bulk and muscle was still evident through the royal garb.

"Ah," he said, voice deep and imposing, as much as he refrained from booming. "The two that have caused my opponent so much strife and struggle. Welcome to my home! Tell me, are you hungry?"

"Indeed. The road to Valm has been long," Robin said, trying to be diplomatic.

"Excellent! We would be honored if you would join us."

The two cloaked men departed, and Walhart led the pair into a massive dining room.

"So," the man said, taking a seat at the massive table. "You two. It came as some surprise when my spies told me only two people were behind all those raids." Robin nodded in response. "Please, take a seat."

"The tactics themselves were simple," Robin said, sitting. "We stole the information on the shipments and proceeded to destroy as much as we could."

"A man after my own heart," Walhart said as servants brought out soup. "As my spies must have told you, I brought you here to discuss an offer." He lifted the lid off of his bowl and smelled the thick, creamy broth.

"And that is?"

"It's simple," Walhart said, lifting his spoon to his mouth. "Join me."

"What's the catch?" Robin said, glancing over to Lucina.

"As I said, it's simple. Sadon wants to conquer Valm," Walhart said, waving at the air with his soup spoon. "That is both of our goals. But his rule will spell certain doom for the people who live in this land, and all others."

"What do you mean?" Robin asked, steepling his hands to obscure his mouth.

"I suppose you're unaware of Sadon's tribe," Walhart said, a scowl on his face as he recalled the man's heritage. "They hail from an island in the south. The people who live there believe that only through destruction may they achieve unification with everything. And so they seek to bring about the great destructor. Sadon wishes to resurrect Grima."

Robin glanced at Lucina. Both wore a stone cold expression on their face.

"How do you know?" Robin asked.

"You have seen his spear? Legends spoke of it. Ages ago, it was tainted by Grima and given to his commander when he sent them to do battle. I know not how he found it, but he has it now."

"Anything else?" Robin asked. "A spear isn't the strongest evidence."

Walhart inhaled slowly, eyes closed. He opened them and exhaled sharply. "He has been seen at the sight of ancient ruins and excavations. Deep in a tomb, he found something. All my spies have been able to see is a flash of gold underneath a thick wrapping. But they think it may be another artefact, called the 'Vessel of Grima', supposedly used during the ritual to awaken the Fell Dragon."


End file.
